


Hyde

by orphan_account



Category: Tokio Hotel
Genre: Adult Content, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Drama, Drug Use, F/F, F/M, Horror, Minor Character Death, Paranormal, Science Fiction, THF Big Bang 2011, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-08
Updated: 2012-07-08
Packaged: 2017-11-09 11:05:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/454740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>'I swear to you Gustav upon my honour every word you shall read from here on in is God’s own truth, perhaps though upon reading this you may feel, as I do, that God does not belong among these words...’</i>
</p>
<p>Herein lies the Strange Case of Doctor Kaulitz and Mr. Hyde.</p>
<p>For the THF Big Bang 2011</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hyde

**Author's Note:**

> You know, this is actually just a tiny bit longer than the original...
> 
> I do not own the passages of the letter which I have adapted from the original work “Strange Case of Dr. Kaulitz and Mr. Hyde” by Robert Lewis Stevenson. The one thing I regret is having to leave out the line “if he be Mr. Hyde, then I shall be Mr. Seek.”.

Gustav Schafer was one of the finest solicitors in Greater London. His mind was sharp and his countenance was perpetually calm. His emotions were not easily read, in fact this same exterior might lead one who had only spared a glance to think him cold and in a way they would be correct, for he did not grin widely or laugh loudly but instead there would be at the corner of his mouth the merest inkling of a smile, the meanest of upturns, but there was something in it that smile that was warm and reassuring. Among the gentlemen of London many would rank Gustav among their favoured guests. Though they could not put their finger on why, they could easily tell you that his presence made the room happier and the conversation flow like water, even though Mr Schafer himself was quite guarded with his words.

Today though, even to one untrained in reading emotion, it was not difficult to see that the gentleman in question was troubled. His lips were tight in a grimace. Today Gustav Schafer had received a letter from a client. This client was also a great companion of Gustav’s; they had been educated at the same university and having both spent such a long time in the others company they had, despite their differences in profession, remained firm friends.

He was a sharp witted man who was seen as somewhat of a bulldog in court, able to interweave facts in a way previously unseen to all others to mount the perfect prosecution in the pursuit of true justice, but this latest and strange case had left him in a state of bemusement. He had read a letter from an old mutual friend of his and Dr. Kaulitz’s and scarcely able to believe what he had read had turned to the other letter.

This strange letter... Gustav had found it that day after that grave time, scrawled in a shaking but purposeful hand, the writer was clearly stable of mind at the time, but not of body. Gustav shuddered at the thought of what befell that poor scribe. After the things he had seen today, he feared the words that lay within, but it was addressed to him with the utmost care.

Breaking the seal, he gathered his nerve, resolving to place himself in whichever mindset would allow him to finish this letter, and read.

_‘To Mr. Schafer,’_ the letter began.

_My friend I ask you this with the upmost trust and sincerity; that though you may scoff at what seem like flights of fancy or turn your nose up in disgust at what seems like a morbid fairy tale, I beg that you suspend disbelief and as a last favour to a long gone companion read this letter unto it’s end, for I swear to you, Gustav, upon my honour every word you shall read from here on in is God’s own truth. Perhaps though upon reading this you may feel, as I do, that God does not belong among these words._

_I expect you once you have been fully satisfied with the contents of the letter and when you have verified them as intensely as you wish that you send these to your nearest detective. To tie up the loose ends to the cases that my strange tale left open._

_Though you must well know how this story started, I feel I must tell it from the very beginning to give it the weight of validity._

_I, Bill Kaulitz, was born in the year 1989 as the sole heir to a large fortune, with wonderful parents inclined by nature to a life in industry, I was fond of the respect of the wise and good among my fellow men, and thus, it might have been supposed that I had every guarantee of a happy and profitable future. I had managed to have an impatient joy of life, striving to make others as happy and healthy as I fancied I was myself._

~*~

Bill was six years old when he realised what he wanted to do with his life. It all happened one fine day when his elder cousin, Anis, fell from his bike. The boy was determinedly trying to lift the front wheel off the floor whilst keeping the back one on the ground and the whole thing moving forward, however as soon as he succeeded in the first, he failed most dramatically in the second and the bike continuing to move ahead of him dropped the child squarely on the floor.

Now, Anis was a brave boy; his mother was quite determined that he would grow up to defend the people of his country and as such had always taught him to be a brave little soldier, so when Anis cried, it was a serious affair. Streams of tears were running down the young child’s face and Bill was at a loss for what to do or how to determine the source of the great problem.

“What’s wrong?” Bill said concerned as he ran as fast as his little legs would carry him towards the fallen boy.

Anis was unable to speak though his sobs, but he didn’t need to, for Bill could see exactly what had happened, as his cousin had tumbled, his forearm had been caught on some part of the machinery of the bike and was now bleeding profusely. Being only six, Bill didn’t know what to do, but that wasn’t going to put him off from trying his very hardest, Anis’s shirt sleeve was already ripped and almost off and so Bill used all the strength he could muster to pull it off the rest of the way. He hoped that his auntie wouldn’t yell at him for ripping Anis’s shirt more, she didn’t like buying new things when it was possible to fix old things.

Deciding not to worry about it at this particular moment he tied the sleeve as best he could around his cousin’s arm. The knots were clumsy, but the bandage was tight enough that the blood stopped flowing.

“Stay here,” he insisted trying his best to put on a grownup voice, “I’ll get help.” And off he ran. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Bill knew what a sorry state he must look, a small panicking boy blood stained and running, but it didn’t matter for now. 

The house where Bill’s mother was currently visiting her sister, was only a few couple of minutes away from the park with Bill’s dashing he could make the journey in a very short space of time.

“Mama!” he called trying to get her attention as he barrelled through the door,

Simone popped her head round the living room door, “What is it sweetheart? Where’s your cousin?”

“Anis is hurt; we need to get to the hospital.” Bill wasted no preamble.

“Okay, Bill you need to stay calm and tell us what happened.”

Bill spent only a minute or two explaining what happened whilst tugging all the while on his mothers arm, urging her to call a cab to get them all to the hospital. The four of them, Bill, Anis and their respective mothers, arrived at the hospital where a nurse took them in, asking Bill to relate his tale once more for Anis was too shaken to speak clearly.

A doctor came to attend to them as soon as he was able, flicking through the notes from the nurse, he took in the image of the blood on Bill’s hands and asked, “Is the younger boy hurt?”

“No,” Simone replied, “Bill tied the cloth around Anis’s arm to stop the bleeding,”

Unwrapping it cautiously so as not to damage Anis any further, the doctor looked decidedly impressed with Bill’s handiwork, “You’ve done yourself quite some damage on your arm here Anis, I think you’ll need stitches if that’s okay with your mother?” he said looking over for the woman’s consent who gave it with a swift nod. 

“Did you clean the cut before you tied it up, Bill?” He asked softly.

“No, I just wanted it to stop bleeding.” He said looking a little shame faced; he should have known that he needed to clean it.

“That was probably a good idea, there’s some glass in here and it could have made more damage if you’d pulled it out, thank you Bill. I’m going to need to sew this up now,” the Doctor said pulling the curtain around the temporary bed to shield it from view, but before he had the chance to fully screen the area Bill wrapped his little hand around it to look up at the doctor. The rush he felt when told that he had done a good job making him feel brave.

“Can I stay?” He asked, intrigued at the notion of being able to sew a person up like a doll or a shirt. The elder man smiled and pointed to the little chair next to the bed.

“If you’re very still and very quiet then you can stay and watch.” He reasoned with the small boy.

Silence is not something that comes naturally to a six year old, but Bill managed to remain entirely quiet through the whole process. As the doctor carefully cleaned the cut and then injected some kind of chemical all around the surface of it, Anis had been whimpering during this task, but once his arm had been injected he stopped. ‘It must be that special stuff’, Bill thought to himself, not willing to break his silence or disturb the doctor, ‘am-e-nesia, or something.’

When it came to actually putting the stitches in, Bill was gobsmacked, he had expected that ‘stitches’ was just a phrase and that some other method was used to fix people’s wounds, but when the doctor remove a large strangely curved needle held in a set of tongs and thread Bill could scarcely believe it.

“How do I get to be you?” Bill asked eyes wide in fascination as Anis’s arm was stitched up in front of him, moving up and down gently with the doctor’s movements as though some grotesque version of the marionette he had seen along the promenade in summer.

“I think that you should be yourself,” the man said with a warm smile in the boy’s direction before focusing back on his work, “but if you want to become a doctor, a bright brave boy like you should have no problem as long as you study the natural sciences and work very hard.”

And so he did.

Bill was the most stubborn-headed of people as he could well admit to himself; once he got an idea in his head he would not let it go until he had seen it realised, becoming a doctor had been no exception. School had until that point for Bill had been an exercise in suffering that one had to endure, just as all the other boys in his class had to endure, but after that revolutionary afternoon it became so much more. School was now not simply a case of doing the minimum required, but an active game where he had to be the very best; better than every one of his peers. The glow he felt from the praise of the doctor that day was his motivation.

Every day he strived to get as much praise and glory from his efforts and thrived off his hard earned reward. At every step he fought to outshine all those around him, and Bill shone like a star.

Finishing sixth form at the age of eighteen with near perfect results Bill had the pick of his choice of medical courses. He had thought about going to another town, or maybe another country, but in the end the prestigious course at King’s College was what he wanted. London was under his skin and, for now at least, he couldn’t imagine himself anywhere else but the bustling metropolis.

He and Gustav met one rainy afternoon in the library before his first set of exams in the January of his first year, the results of which wouldn’t count towards the final marking on the course, but would definitely be grounds for the University questioning the new intakes’ worth as the next generation of medical professionals. As such it was very quite throughout the whole building. Bill was studious as ever and sitting on his own in a dimly lit corner when the stocky blond sat next to him. Bill hadn’t even noticed the man’s approach, but was aware of him now as he seemed to be attempting to strike up a conversation with him.

“Hey, I hope you don’t mind me sitting here, everywhere else is full.” He explained quietly, it wasn’t whispering exactly, seeming to have the quality of a voice at rest, but his voice didn’t disturb any of the other occupants of the library. It was a remarkable skill that he had, the ability to speak solely to one person in the room as though the world revolved around their answer. It was something that Bill immediately took a shine to and something that helped the stranger out immensely in court later on in his life.

“Not at all,” Bill replied, smile open and easy, “I hope you don’t mind all my books being in the way.”

Shaking his head gently, but offering no further reply the stranger put down his own small pile in the left over desk space, “Medicine,” he noted sounding impressed, “You must work hard, I never could get my head around science in school, enough to pass, but never any further than that.”

“You don’t study medicine?” Bill asked slightly confused, this was, after all, the medical library so he had assumed that everyone here was, if not studying medicine, at least studying some form of biomedical sciences.

“No,” he said holding up his own book on English probate systems, “I’m a law student, but as I said, everywhere else is full. The first years have their first big essay due in two days and the department is full of people trying to cram it all in, no room for the rest of the students to study for exams.”

“What year are you in then?” Bill asked settling into the conversation.

“I’m in second year, and yourself?” he asked, and then before Bill had a chance to reply added, “I’m Gustav by the way,”

“Bill,” he said taking Gustav’s pre-offered hand, “I’m an itty-bitty first year,”

“I don’t know. You seem pretty tall to me.” He said, making Bill laugh loudly enough to receive a glare from the student sitting on the table next to them.

~*~

Gustav remembered that time fondly, they had been so young, and life seemed so complicated at the time what with exams and coursework, but in truth it was easy compared to what the real world threw at them. Both of their chosen careers had not been easy paths to walk and it had taken its toll on both of them from time to time, but they had managed to prop each other up, from Bill’s first death to Gustav’s first loss and all of the highs and lows that became before and after.

Even when life and let them walk slightly different paths, they had kept in touch and there was no Doctor that Gustav trusted to take care of him as much as Bill, and there was no ‘back-stabbing shark who could possibly stab as gently’ as Gustav, Bill had once said with great humour in his voice. He knew that Gustav was a hugely kind, caring and philanthropic person, but he liked to mock his dear friend about the stereotypes associated with his profession. In truth there was no issue on which Bill had not consulted Gustav to ask for guidance. Whether he followed the advice or not was up to chance, but that was the same with Bill’s insistence that two bacon sandwiches for breakfast was probably not the healthiest of options if Gustav wished to age with style. They were each other’s mentors.

Except in this issue apparently.

Gustav bowed his head, closed his eyes and let out what had had avoided for many years: a prayer. A prayer for salvation, a prayer for guidance, a prayer for _Bill_.

~*~

_I suffered however greatly from the sin of pride; I knew full well I was as good and wise a man as those whose company I sought as a child. So it came about that I would bury all desire for the frivolous things in life truly deep, to prove perhaps, that I was better than the man next to me. I dare say though that at the time I was barely aware of my reasoning. In the year 2017 I was to be turning 28, and I reflected (as one does on these occasions) on my standing in life, and I saw, buried in my own self, duplicity._

~*~

Bill washed his hands thoroughly feeling slightly ill, he would have thought that after seven years of study and internship and another three years of professional practice as a trauma doctor in a busy London ward, especially as he had seen all manner of injuries and wounds in his time, he would have been able to quite stomach the work that was his life. This however all too often was not the case. It wasn’t the blood itself so much; he had had to deal with blood on a regular basis for far too long to hold any residual squeamishness about it. No, it was the thoughts and ideas behind some of the injuries today.

They were deep cuts he had seen today, fairly clean (which was fortunate, but he disinfected the area thoroughly anyway, there was no sense in taking risks) but long and needing stitches, they would inevitably scar. He just hoped that the woman knew a good tattoo artist because the words that those cuts spelt...

He shuddered again redoubling his scrubbing efforts. Having worn gloves throughout this entire procedure he knew realistically that he didn’t have even the faintest trace of blood on his hands and that the stickiness he felt was from the disinfectant powder lining, but still it was almost as though he was washing away the repulsion he felt at the morality of mankind. He had seen this woman in the hospital several times before; he had treated her several times himself. He was sure that she would have been flashed up on the hospital register as being regularly admitted, more than was acceptable.

Thinking ahead he had taken pictures of the wounds before and after he had dressed them, it was probably above and beyond his call of duty, but that didn’t matter. He knew that one day it would be evidence in a trial. Hopefully the trial would be for grievous bodily harm and not some far worse, unspeakable crime.

He wanted to shake this woman, and tell her to leave to find a good place for her and her children to go where they’d be under the protection of police and social services. He was going to get her a case worker if it was the last thing he did, if she wouldn’t take herself away then he would drag her kicking and screaming. It frustrated him no end out this woman _insisted_ that her husband was a good man and that it was just occasionally that something went wrong.

When he had seen women in this state before they were invariably brainwashed by their husbands and boyfriends in to believing that no-one else could ever care about them except the man in question, any behaviours directed towards them were deserved and, worst of all in Bill’s eyes, that these beatings were an act of love and kindness. How anyone could hear ‘I hurt you because I love you. ’ and not run far, far away in the opposite direction he couldn’t quite fathom.

He was not a psychologist (which is what the poor girl surely needed) but somehow he doubted that a person could truly be that much of two people. A truly good man and a truly bad man, then again he saw some of that duality in himself.

The more he saw of these kinds of crimes the more he thought if it could truly be so; could he be a doctor and a carer rather than a monster because he simply _chose_ to be? Did that creature lurk under his own skin as much as it lurked under anybodies, or was he just an inherently better man than those men who would beat others as though they were unsatisfactory toys? Where did the difference truly lie between the just and the unjust?

Forcing himself to turn off the tap Bill stepped away from the sink and packed up his things for the night. He was on call, but he had leave to go home unless there was an emergency situation. A good warm shower and a nap sounded good right about now, but before that he needed to pick up a pint of milk from the corner shop that would still be open. That was the thing about being a doctor, you got paid a significant amount more, but you also had very little life outside your work and as such you couldn’t take your time to go to the cheap shop down the road and get the best deal, you had to buy whatever was available at the time, normally at an elevated price.

This was what lead to Bill’s advice for all new medical students; if you’re in it for the money, become an accountant.

~*~

_In one part of my nature sat the good man, the doctor who wished to treat all people well and make right in the world, and in the second part of my nature lay a man who desired all that the good man I was had denied him. This creature was a being of lust and rage and sin. I felt in me there was a deeper trench between these two sides than there were in most men, severed in me those isles of good and ill which divide and compound man’s dual nature._

~*~

“Gustav, my good man.” Bill called as he saw his old friend arrive greeting him warmly with a hug that he had not bestowed on his other guests. The other men who had been invited to his townhouse near the hospital were colleagues and professors; it was really a meeting of minds and, aside from the want of good company and equally good food, there was no real celebration or occasion that had brought them together.

The hospital recently had taken to hosting dinner parties on the first of every month, with the more senior members of staff graciously opening their homes to the others. There wasn’t a rotor as such, but everyone knew whose turn it was. Tonight was Bill’s turn though he was possibly the youngest member of staff who kept company with these gentlemen, having been trained at the hospital he was working at, he was considered as well as any of the other members of the staff who gathered on these days.

“Good evening Bill, you look well.” Gustav said pulling away and then bringing forth his companion for introductions. “This is Georg, he’s a new clerk to the court and the firm inevitably jumped on him.”

“I believe we’ve already met,” Bill said offering his hand to the stranger.

Georg raised one eyebrow a little, “I’m sorry to say I don’t recall you, Bill. Where was it we met?”

“Oh it was a while ago, and can’t have been more than a few hours. Anyway, I look rather different when I’m dressed up for an evening out, imagine a variety of piercings” he said gesturing to certain points of his face, “and you might get the idea. I don’t tend to wear them for work; it’s not very professional or hygienic.”

Georg looked a little shamefaced at the recollection the description brought to him, “You know, I think I do recall you.”

“Don’t worry; we all have separate faces that we put forward.” Bill said with an honest and open smile. “Do come in, my housekeeper, Jost, is just preparing everything, so dinner will be a few minutes yet.”

Pausing only to take his guests’ coats and hang them in the cupboard by the door, Bill chatted to Gustav about his latest case prosecuting a man for a particularly vicious double homicide, however he knew well the man who was defending the case, they were good friends when they weren’t working against each other in court having completed their studies in the same year.

He was sympathetic towards a man whose client insisted on pleading not guilty when the evidence was stacked so highly against him. Apparently Peter’s main line of defence was going to be to plead his client not guilty by reason of insanity.

Gustav was starting to think that Peter might be right. “The real shame about this,” Gustav said sipping gently at the golden wine in his hand, “Is that until the case is over I’ve lost a terrific chess player, his firm is worse than mine about not socialising with opposing solicitors.”

“Sharks really do swim together,” Georg quipped, able to do so without recompense because he was one himself.

“I would say ‘fish of a feather’ but...” Gustav trailed of causing a polite titter to sweep across the table.

Bill’s mind was still on the events that had taken place earlier this week, and on his mind was still the concept of a core divide in that which is good and that which is bad in all men. “What is it that makes these people so capable of acts that are thought to be almost impossible for most people to perform?”

“I’m not sure I follow, Bill.” Doctor Andreas Layton, one of Bill’s closest companions, interjected.

“Well you see,” Bill tried to explain, “To you or I such a crime is unthinkable, but in order for it to have taken place, someone _must_ have thought it. So where lays the difference? Are we incapable of such acts or do we simply choose to ignore that part of us which makes us capable? Would we be able to separate the two, to destroy or isolate that within us that is evil?”

“My dear boy,” one of the guests interjected, “I rather think that level of sin is above and beyond the likes of you or me, come now.” The elderly doctor turned to another one of the guests and started on a more pleasant conversation about medical findings and recent journal articles people had read.

_Beyond the likes of you or me?_ Bill thought. He wasn’t so sure...

~*~

_I was driven to reflect deeply on that hard law of life. Though profound a double-dealer I was in no sense a hypocrite; both sides of me were in dead earnest; I was no more myself if I were to lay aside restraint and plunge into shame, than I was when I laboured in the relief of sorrow and suffering._

_With everyday from both sides of my intelligence, the moral and the intellectual, I thus grew nearer to that truth that did eventually doom me to such a dreadful shipwreck. That man is not truly one, but two. It was on the moral side of me that I learned to recognise the primitive duality of man._

~*~

Bill wouldn’t admit that the thoughts were becoming a compulsion of the mind as one reminisces unintentionally over nightmares and horror stories, but he couldn’t let the thoughts go, live out their natural lives and be forgotten with the rest.

There was something within these ideas that Bill was quickly becoming obsessed with. The idea that inside each individual there were two halves both intrigued and repulsed him in equal parts. The more he thought of it, the more he recognised it in not only criminals, but in the ordinary man and even, though he knew it should worry him, in himself. 

It kept him up at nights sometimes. Many thoughts kept him awake long past the twilight hour; the inevitability of his own death, the unexpected helplessness of his profession and now, the split nature of mankind. It had not fortunately, disturbed the much of his waking thoughts. The light of day made the monsters of his mind seem further away and a little more spectral but still the thoughts were always there.

Jost was worried, Bill knew this inside, but he couldn’t find the words to reassure his ever faithful housekeeper. The dear man was a worrier by nature; it was Jost’s perpetual worrying (that Bill secretly thought bordered on neurosis) that kept him fed and clothed even though his hectic schedule, but this worry was beyond the norm.

It was easy to work out when Jost was genuinely worried. Rather than fretting and fussing like a Victorian housewife, as was his normal predisposition, he became deathly silent. The only indicator of his emotions was the tiredness in his eyes. Almost infinitesimal, but definitely there. Clearly, his housekeeper wasn’t the only person who had sensed his change in mood, but as Jost was the person he was around most often his thoughts and opinions were the ones closest to Bill’s consciousness.

If it was the case that Bill was causing Jost this much worry then maybe it was time for him to find something else to latch his thoughts onto. Maybe some new medicine or research paper.

But what if there was a cure to this sorry state of being?

~*~

_I tell you this about my nature in a hope that it might in some way explain, though not excuse me venture, A venture in which I had hoped to split the wicked and the righteous parts of my nature, the parts that both damn and raise up in us all. In a hope that the wickedness felt no incumbent burden and that the good man in us all would help and heal without the chokehold of sin and temptation tearing at his heart._

_I began to dwell with pleasure as a beloved day dream on this possibility. If each, I told myself, were housed in separate identities, life would be relieved of all that was unbearable. The unjust might go his way, and the just could walk steadfastly and securely on his path, doing the good things in which he found pleasure._

_It was the curse of mankind that the two incongruent souls were bound together, that in the agonised womb of consciousness these polar twins should be continuously struggling. How then were they to be dissociated?_

~*~

Here was a haze in the distance, the joys and crowds of London concealed within it Bill was certain. He could be a part of that exultation and that human condition that is life. He was chained in place. He longed to shake off the shackles of his life and throw himself into the living mass beyond the fog, but he was unable. 

“You’re not trying hard enough” a voice insisted to him. “Freedom and pureness of form,” it whispered seductively in his ear, “it could all be yours if you just try.”

Those strong, sure hands pulled at his chains. Tugging and twisting and stretching. Dull bruises and cuts were forming on Bill’s skin, but the creature didn’t care. Bill was certain that he would break before the chains ever had a chance, but they were morphing and warping like warm toffee; whatever that the familiar stranger was doing, it was working. They pulled and pulled until...

Bill awoke with a start. He could still feel those painful marks on his skin, “Just a dream” he whispered to himself, “Just a silly dream.” They were more than just a dream though, in some way he was making them reality. Of course the real world was never so literal, but there was a part of him longing to throw off the shackles of society and his mind. That part of him was always working away at the solution with little regard for its host. The bruises were not forming on Bill’s skin, but the effect was clear on his life and health.

In his spare time the laboratory in the back of the house was being frequented by Bill more and more of late, the calculations and the experimentations that he had been doing were getting him closer and closer to what Bill perceived to be the solution. But he was finding that he was losing himself a little in the hunt. He hoped that by the time he found the answer, there was enough of the good doctor left to isolate.

Working in the hospital was the soul respite his mind managed to find, sleep no longer mattered as much as his research. Though, being a medical man and therefore aware of the adverse effects, he slept as much as he could, which admittedly wasn’t as much as it should have been.

He lay down once more trying to invite sleep into his exhausted body, but it was no good. He was well into the land of consciousness. Feeling no tiredness in his body or mind Bill decided not to waste these precious hours and secreted himself away to the lab. He was as quiet as he could be so as not to wake Jost or the maid who took lodgings in his home and set to work on his pressing obsession.

‘Come and play’ the room called to him at all hours of the evening. He had even sent Jost all over the city to get the ingredients that he had been sure would give him the results he so desired. He had given white mice different versions of the elixir he had been developing, with varied results. None so far had expired under the administrations (for which Bill was glad for as much as he knew it necessary for the good of mankind, he still sometimes felt a little squeamish about testing products of research on animals). Some had had an interesting effect on the behaviour of them, such as causing them to behave in a wholly more docile manner or having sudden attacks of viciousness, but all the results were seen to wear off.

He mixed the base ingredients in the way he had perfected, and then added the tweaked addition watching the chemicals fizz and bubble in a way that, if nothing else, looked spectacular. Putting the concoction in the mice’s feeder he got out his log book ready to jot his findings. 

_‘No immediate change observed’_ He wrote, it was a little disappointing; he had been sure that he had had a breakthrough with this particular alteration to the formula, but apparently not. He would continue to observe anyway, just in case. As with many medicines results took time. He would watch carefully over the next few hours and then determine whether or not his results had been a success. He would get there eventually.

~*~

Bill had been locked away in his lab for weeks now, only ever leaving to go to the hospital or to eat and sleep. Even then he had been starting to nap on the sofa in the lab so as to not waste time if he happened upon an idea in his sleep. He only didn’t take his meals in the lab because he knew that many of the chemical components that he worked with could be toxic in their raw form.

He knew he was becoming withdrawn, but until he came across his solution he wouldn’t be able to sustain a decent conversation with anyone during this time anyway; his mind would certainly be set on his task when talking to others. It would be rudeness beyond measure to not pay attention to your companion when in their company.

It was an excuse and only that; Bill had always been one to drift off during a conversation, but he felt as though as long as he gave these excuses to Jost, the housekeeper wouldn’t disrupt him too often. He had already told Jost a few days ago that he wouldn’t be entertaining for the foreseeable future. It would keep enthusiastic interns from coming knocking. He was a favourite amongst them as he was kinder and more caring than many of his older colleagues asking for assistance or simply to enjoy his company. But not now, not for a little while.

When he was done.

~*~

“Master Kaulitz currently doesn’t wish to entertain guests, Master Shafer.” Jost said loudly and clearly, Bill could hear him of course, he was only the other side of the door, but almost certainly Jost thought he was in his lab in need of reassurance that his orders were still being followed. He was about to turn and leave when the housekeeper spoke again. “If I may speak frankly Gustav,” Jost said mutedly, but Bill was still able to hear.

“You may,” Gustav replied, Bill could tell that he was perplexed by the sudden rejection from his best friend, Bill wanted to reassure him that it wasn’t just Gustav he wasn’t seeing, but it didn’t seem appropriate to tell someone that he was too busy to see them and have the time to turn up to explain it himself.

David was stoic and steady as ever, but there was a hint of nerves behind the voice that spoke, “Bill has been retreating into himself more and more of late. He is rarely willing to see anyone; even I have been unable to speak to him at times. He has to be badgered to eat, even to sleep. I don’t know how he is faring at work, but I fear for the master’s health.”

“Bill has always been prone to these bouts of obsession, Jost.” Gustav replied, Bill had known Gustav for many years, it stood to reason that he would understand the state of mind Bill currently inhabited, especially since Bill had known Gustav to have been as enthralled by a case as Bill was by his research.

There was a sigh from the older man, “I know Gustav, but this seems above and beyond his normal work, I worry for him.”

“It’s your job to worry for him David, I tell you what, if he refuses to speak to anyone in a few weeks time call for me and I shall do my best to shake him out of it, but I’m sure, my old friend, that he will come back to us in a short while.”

“I hope you are right Master Schafer,” Jost replied with a sigh, “I sincerely hope you are right. I’ll show you to the door,”

“No need my good man, I know the way well enough. I shall see you soon I hope.”

Bill slumped against the door relieved that Gustav understood him well enough that he didn’t insist he should stay. He had complete faith that he could finish his work and be back to his normal life in no time. It was how it had always been.

~*~

_Certain agents I found to have the power to shake and pluck that fleshy vestment even as a wing might toss the curtains of a pavilion._

_I shall not elaborate further on scientific findings, one because even as far as I did, I found that this knowledge was one full profoundly of sorrow and ill tidings. I do not wish anyone to continue the work from whence I left it, and second I find that complexities of science somewhat distract from the focus of this letter which is in essence a confession and not a recipe book._

~*~

David was a little perplexed at some of the chemicals on his shopping list. He knew not what Bill was searching for, but he was going a very odd way about it. The piece of paper he was given looked like the shopping list for a witch.

_‘Dragon’s Blood’ Resin – best to get it from Cornelissen's, purity is essential._

That was a good distance to walk from here to there. He was currently in Glass House Street getting molybdenum shavings and he’d already been to Of Alley and Seven Dials. He glanced down the seemingly endless list.

_‘Solomon’s Water’ – The apothecary’s at Lambs Conduit Street has high concentration varieties available._

What _was_ Bill doing? David could normally follow a little of Bill’s logic (one does not surround himself with doctors and pick up nothing) but he was unable to fathom neither what Bill could possibly want with all of these things nor what sort of chemicals Bill was requiring of. He had definitely said on more than one occasion that Mercury was good as little more than a catalyst and it was a pretty poor one at that, so why all of a sudden was he requiring it in large quantities as well as several minerals David knew full well to be virtually inert?

He had stocked Bill’s cabinets before and Bill’s father’s cabinets before that and not once had he been so perplexed.

“Good say sir,” a man in a green apron said as Jost walked in, “How may I be of assistance?”

David double checked the list in his hand to see if there were any additional items that could be purchased the old art shop. Not normally a place that he would come to get medical supplies the smell of lacquer on the floor and oil being mixed was cloying. It probably usually would feel like a comforting smell especially to one interested in art, but now it just made Jost uneasy. 

Uneasy was starting to become his permanent state.

After a purchasing the necessary items he stepped out of the shop onto the quiet road and into a quite unexpected shower of rain, he hoped he could get a hansom cab from here, he still had over half the list to sort through...

~*~

_Alas! Too evident that my discoveries were incomplete. Enough though, that I had found my body to have its own aura and powers which could be then, dethroned as it were from their natural place were a second form and countenance could be substituted. A form which was none the less still natural to me for it bore the stamp of the lower elements in my soul._

_I hesitated long before I put this theory to the test of practice, I knew well that I risked death; for any drug which so potently controlled and shook the very fortress of identity might, by the very smallest of overdoses could destroy that which I sought to change. The temptation of discovery at least overcame the suggestions of alarm. I had long since prepared my elixir and purchased a large amount of a certain salt from the chemists which I knew to be the last ingredient required._

_It was late in night when I had compounded the elements and watched them boil and smoke together in the glass and with a strong glow of courage drank._

~*~

The salt lay innocuously to the side of the graduated glass. All the other components were relatively easy to come by, but this most vital ingredient was a difficult find, and exceptionally so in the quantities that Bill had wished to obtain it. The compound was fairly low grade, but despite this was still worth more that its weight in gold.

Bill felt the keen sting of regret at having made Jost run around like a mad man throughout the entire city. In truth only a handful of the items on the list were needed but there was something about this whole endeavour that he wanted desperately to keep to himself. The same voice that tugged on his consciousness in the night was the same that told him to hide his work. Work in silence. Work in secret. 

Most sane men wouldn’t take direction from voices in their minds, but Bill felt that this was more than just a dream, more than just an imagining. He was sure that he had the formulas right this time. All the trials had been successful but he couldn’t take his discoveries any further until he was sure. He had to be certain.

The mixture was effervescent on the combination of the main two compounds and the final strange salt set to catalyse the reaction between the two sent the reaction to a hue so green it seemed impossible. If he could secure the proper mordent he was sure that it would be one of the finest dyes, if not for the fact that it was far too precious a compound to waste on vanity.

He put it on the side to watch the reaction to its end. It needed to sit for some time to ensure that it wasn’t too acidic to consume, but he wished that the reaction was one that was quicker to go to completion. The longer the reaction took to complete, the longer Bill had to postulate on the possible outcomes of drinking the tempestuous tonic. Instead he double checked his figures. He double checked his results. He double checked his equations. Eventually after what seemed like an eon of obsessive double checks the reaction had been left long enough to be filtered and drunk.

Bill stood in his lab feeling full of nerves, this could kill him, this could potentially _kill_ him. He could be another about to die in the name of scientific advancement, and Bill could not deny that the idea did thrill him somewhat. Here was, in essence, the most exciting game that man played.

Was the chamber loaded or empty?

“No turning back.” He whispered into the silence. Bill closed his eyes, and pressed the cool glass to his lips, unable to consume that first dose of his own medicine. ‘Come on Billy-boy’ something insisted. Bill swore that that voice wasn’t coming from his own mind. He was sure that he’d actually heard it.

Shaking his head he sought to take the mixture again. “You’re just trying to psych yourself out now,” He insisted to himself.

Swallowing the precisely measured compound back in one gulp he righted himself putting the glass on the table feeling a profound sense of anticlimax when nothing appeared to happen. He noted his findings in the journal again and made to turn back to his equations but he could take no more than a step before all went dark and he collapsed to the floor in agony.

~*~

_The pain that wracked my body subsequently can hardly be described for they do not do the feeling justice; a grinding in the bones, deadly nausea, and a horror of the spirit that cannot be exceeded at the hour of birth or death. The agony swiftly subsided and I came to myself as if from a hallucination._

_It was unusual to say the least, I felt younger, lighter, happier; within it I was conscious of a heady recklessness. My head full of sensual images that paraded round my mind, and yet unlike I was in the body of Bill Kaulitz I found myself uncaring of their lewdness, and felt not the bonds of obligation. It was a freedom of the soul, but not an innocent one._

_I knew myself, from the first breath taken in this body, to be far more wicked, a hundred fold more wicked than any original evil inherent in the old countenance; and the thought, in this new body and mind flooded and delighted me like wine._

_I stretched out my arms exulting in the freshness of these sensations; and in the act I was suddenly aware of a change in physicality. I was aware that my shoulders were broader, as my shirt was pulled taught across my back where normally it was fitted and my trousers though not too tight were longer on my body than before, I had apparently lost in stature._

_There was no mirror, at that date, in my room; that which stands beside me as I write was bought there later and for the very purpose of these transformations. That night however was creeping into the birth of dawn and all the residence of the house were as yet still locked in slumber and so, filled with the joy of victory ventured into my bedroom; moving swift and silent in the knowledge that I was as yet a stranger in my own house; coming to my room I saw for the very first time the appearance of Thomas Hyde._

~*~

This was very unusual.

Bill was aware that sometimes the mind forgot pains that it had been through; the inexorable agony of child birth all but disappeared when the child itself was born as though some long forgotten memory, but he had felt certain that such torture could not be withstood for any length of time and not remembered by the body, he had felt certain that he would feel an ache, a pain, a twinge, _anything_ , but there was nothing. Not a thing.

In fact he hadn’t felt so rested in weeks! With all the research he had been doing, his sleeping patterns had been broken for many days in the excitement of reaching his breakthrough. He _had_ thought that he would need to sleep to take the edge off after the experiment had reached its conclusion, but now? Now he could do anything.

He felt though almost like a school child waiting in anticipation to be caught for a particularly well thought out crime. As though the idea of getting recognition for the crime far out weighted the consequences of getting found out. If Bill had been wholly himself he would have been worried about this feeling of baseless immorality, but rather than being distressing it was simple exulting. Yes, something was wrong, but who on a day so beautiful could bring themselves to waste energy caring?

Within him was the overwhelming need to test his own limits. What had this potion of science done for his health? What had it done for his stamina? He could already feel what it had done for his countenance so what else could this marvellous medicine accomplish? He reached for the ceiling like a child grin on his face and a bounce in his feet.

‘Curiouser and curiouser’ he said to himself, this was definitely akin to falling down the rabbit hole. There was a strange sensation in his arms; he couldn’t move them freely as he normally would. He had thought it some side effect of the drink, perhaps some paralysis or stiffness, but it appeared instead to be outside of himself.

The shirt, of course, how could he have been so silly? It was too tight across his shoulders, clinging along his chest and stretching the sleeves. The shirt certainly hadn’t gotten any smaller in the last few minutes so the logical assumption was that Bill had gotten bigger except that he seemed to be a couple of centimetres shorter. It wasn’t a significant amount, but that china plate that sat on the very top shelf was no longer in his field of vision.

His hair, normally kept short and manageable for hygiene reasons had grown out greatly, still pitch black, but towards the middle of his back. His piercings were gone for the most part, but the one in his lip was still there only moved to the other side, it was as though his whole physicality had been morphed and twisted.

He wasn’t quite sure what to make of this new body, he hadn’t expected such a change to occur and for the moment couldn’t think of a reason why it should have. His deductive flaws were probably not helped by the fact he felt far to wild to be concerned. It was as though something within him had been set free ready to play and, more importantly, to hunt. It took over Bill’s mind and all of the thoughts the usually logical Doctor would have had were thrown to the wayside for some other pitiful fool to deal with.

That’s what he thought of mankind in this moment; pitiful. They were clinging to the surface of the earth like insects and only he in this one moment was free and fearless enough to see it.

They were pitiful, but he did not feel pity. Mirth at their misfortune, perhaps, a profound sense of schadenfreude, most definitely, but _pity_? Pity was for the weak to feel. Even the pitiful didn’t deserve his pity. Not when they were so self absorbed and pathetic.

Chaos was the law and Bill felt like injecting a little of it into the world.

Tigers cared not for rules and regulations, nor did the eagle, nor did the sky. The greatest scientific minds in the world could never truly tell someone what was going to happen on the earth in a day’s time let alone a year’s or a lifetime’s. Look at earthquakes, a perfect example that no matter the efforts mankind put into controlling, mapping and labelling the world around them they couldn’t ever contain the destructive force of the earth itself. They couldn’t even predict it well enough to allow people to run away.

Whoever he was now, _whatever_ he was now, he was done organising and sorting and controlling. It was time to be free.

Not one part of him understood how ruthlessly cruel and caustic the sort of chaos he described was and if it understood it relished in it. _This_ , he knew, was how life should be lived.

The creature didn’t have the patience to write or the calmness of being to organise his thoughts sufficiently to have any results worth writing, but it did gleefully hurry though the house to find a mirror the one that sat in the all but abandoned bedroom of Dr Kaulitz.

The gild framed mirror was an extravagance that Bill’s mother had bought for him before her untimely death. He used it every day even though there were much more utilitarian mirrors available throughout the house and in the bathroom. The newborn being didn’t treat it with the care that Bill would have but instead picked it up with careless and clumsy hands resisting looking only long enough to run back to the lab before placing it upright and with a needlessly dramatic flourish removed the dust covering to face his own reflection.

The first thing that Bill (still there inside even if his morality was no longer present) noticed was the grin. He was still handsome as ever, though stockier and muscled unlike the willowy original and there was something about the face which echoed the doctor’s own, but that grin... It promised something that Bill couldn’t verbalise, couldn’t describe in any way. It promised more than Bill thought he would ever be ready for whilst at the same time he felt instantly in love with it.

Maybe it was this that pushed Bill to take back a little control and reach for the remedy once more hoping to reverse the effects and push him back towards something more in line with the rules set forth by society.

~*~

_In some way even then I could see that evil was written broadly and plainly on the face of the other, but when I looked him in the mirror I was not conscious of any fear or repulsion but instead felt a leap of welcome, for this too, had to have been myself. It seemed natural, human and lively in spirit and brighter than the dual countenance that I had been before. I noticed in time that none could come near me in this form without a visible misgiving of the flesh. This I had assumed was because humans as they are, are commingled out of good and evil. Thomas Hyde, alone in the ranks of mankind, was pure evil._

_The experiment however was yet incomplete for it had yet to be seen whether my identity had been lost in its entirety (and I suppose to that end whether I must flee from the house that would, in which case, no longer be mine) hurrying to back to my cabinet I once more prepared and drank the concoction which had changed me in the first. I came to myself once more as the same Bill Kaulitz._

~*~

The mixture to trigger the transformation was as easy to remember in this form as it was when Bill was master of his own mind. It reassured him that despite feeling so unlike himself he was able to access his own thoughts and memories he was, in essence at least, still somewhere within this new being.

There was a fear within him at the idea of drinking the potion. Whether it was the fear of the pain that his body scarcely remembered or whether it was the creature trying to cling desperately onto his new found life he couldn’t tell, but it made him hesitate almost more than fear of the unknown when he had taken the elixir in the first.

“Don’t hesitate.” he told himself as though saying it out loud would add a weight of validation to the thought. “Drink it now.”

The strong hand that was now his own shook with the effort of lifting the glass to his lips. He was definitely fighting with the force within him rather than an outside restriction this time around.

He sipped cautiously the effect of it emboldened him to take a huge draught of his creation. The transformation back was not the same as the initial change. Instead of the sharp intense wracking of his person this was instead a melting sensation like coming back into himself. It was as though he had awakened from a particularly vivid dream, this however he knew to certainly not have been a dream. This was real.

Bill supposed that it was a success of sorts, but, now he was free of the childlike glee and pride he had initially felt, he was sorely worried that the creature he had created was not in any shape or form a good man and yet when he transformed once more Bill was not a better or higher man than he had been before. Had he just made the world a worse off place? He feared deeply that this was well the case. He would, of course, continue his efforts into the isolation of nature now he knew that it could be done he would keep carving the path forward and hopefully start to turn it to a better direction.

But would it? Maybe it would never bring forth the good in him as it could the evil. It was perhaps the obsession, the kind in which evil lurks, that brought forth the change and allowed him to become this strange man unlike any other creature inhabiting this world.

He would report his results, he could present his findings even, he could tell the world of what was possible. Whether this was a good idea however, one worth pursuing, was a different matter. He had seen for himself that only when ingested on a human scale was it possible to find the real effects of the compounds he had been making.

And if his results a success then what then? There would doubtless be some scoundrels wanting the last of their moral standing removed to allow them to move through the criminal under classes uninhibited and those men who would want to turn all others good and virtuous for their own monetary gain. Was splitting the nature of humanity, after all his work and perseverance, worth the half formed beings that it brought forth? He feared the question one of the most unanswerable on the planet.

Was he truly separating nature or was creating a whole new being that took him as host? Would the birth of a saint cause the demise of a good but worldly man?

It was these questions and more that kept Bill from his sleep long into the night.


End file.
